In the Interest of Change
by Darkingfire
Summary: Muggle science and Wizard magic are never supposed to mix. Bad, strange, or just plain eerie things happen when they do. Too bad no one ever told one kid that, and now the whole world's got to pay!
1. And the Idiots Shall Inherit the Earth

It was a fact of nature that you could not mix magic and technology.

Things that required the precise timing and split-second precision could not function around the environmental disturbances that magic created. It was like oil and water; order and chaos.

When people did insist on mixing the two, the results were either spectacular failures, which usually resulted in enormous explosions, or ended with the technology becoming some sort of strange amalgam of the two that never did quite what was expected of it. (Alarm clocks that could tell you the weather in a Brooklyn accent and psychic toasters were just the beginning.)

One of the reasons for the restriction on underage magic was because young muggle-born witches and wizards, as well as young witches and wizards that spent a great deal of time in the muggle world tended to either not know, or forget about that fact, and try to enchant various pieces of technology. It always ended up being a huge headache to sort out, so the restriction was placed, and the headaches went down.

They didn't, however, stop the seriously determined.

Adam MacIntire has only one role in this story. He is fully unimportant in every single aspect of his life, lives in America, and has studied magic for three years. He is neither handsome or ugly, fat nor thin, and is of middling intelligence (something that will be called in to question shortly.).

Adam is going to ruin everything.  
-

Fourteen year old Adam MacIntire peered down at the DS in his lap, using his one hand to manipulate the stylus and buttons, and the other to hold his wand. If everything went the way he thought it should he'd soon have the best pet in the whole world; one that no one else would ever be able to say they had.

"All right..." he muttered, glancing over at a thick book that lay next to him, "Image, check. Offering," he glanced over at a small bowl of fruit salad on his bedside table, "check."

The boy took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, nerving himself up before pressing the tip of his wand against the image on the DS's screen and beginning to read from the book.

He stumbled a couple of times over the unfamiliar words, but the soft blue glow coming from the tip of his wand heartened him and he continued; his voice growing with excitement until he was almost shouting as he finished reading the ancient spell and lifted his wand from the DS screen.

Nothing happened, and Adam slumped back against his pillows, slapping the DS shut and tossing it onto his bedside table as he grabbed at the book and shoved his wand underneath his pillow.

"What did I do wrong?" He whined, paging through the description of the spell and skimming it to see if he'd missed anything.

He didn't notice the DS start to smoke until the scent of melting plastic reached his nose and he gagged, looking wildly around the room to find the source of the smell.

"Oh shite!" he cried, scrambling to grab the DS and unplug it from the wall, only to yelp and drop it as it scorched his fingers.

"Oh craaaap." He moaned as smoke began to rise from the bedside table as well, grabbing at his wand and pointing it haphazardly at the smouldering game system. "Glacius!"

Ice formed, swiftly growing to cover the whole system, and Adam sighed with relief, reaching for the book again and starting to re-read the spell's description, idly twiddling his wand as he read.

He never noticed the ice melting, or the water from the melted ice evaporating, or even the tiny licks of flame that rose from his bedside table.

He did, however, notice when the DS exploded with far more force than should have been possible.

He didn't, however, notice it for long, since the force of the explosion physically flung him the short distance into the wall that his bed was against and slammed his head into it with enough force that he lost consciousness.

Little bits of burning DS flung themselves around the room, catching other things in the teenager's bedroom alight until the whole thing was blazing.

Smoke detectors shrieked, and a tall woman with curly blond hair darted into the room, crying out for her son.

Adam shifted, groaning as he held his head and gazed blearily around.

"Whass goin' on?" he slurred, and the blond woman darted over to his bed, trying to avoid stepping in any of the burning patches of carpet.

"Get up! What were you doing! We have to get out of here!" she tugged on his arm, pulling him off the bed and halfway across the floor before he woke up enough to understand what his eyes were telling him.

"My wand!" he yelped, and tore himself out of his mother's grasp, darting back across the room, grabbing the wand and running back to the bedroom door.

The woman raced after him, and the two ran out of their apartment, gasping and shivering as the cool night air chilled their previously hot bodies.

"Stay here!"

Adam tried to protest as his mother darted back into the apartment, her own wand clenched in one white knuckled hand.

Loud hisses, like water being poured on a hot pan, filled the air, and nasty scented steam wafted out of the open door. Other hisses reached his ears, and Adam recognized the sounds of the kitchen fire extinguisher from all the times he'd had to use it to put out his attempts at cooking.

Slowly the smoke billowing from the open doors and windows ceased, and his mother reappeared in the doorway, her arms and nightgown smudged with soot and her hair dishevelled.

"Get in here and explain."

Gulping at the deadly look on his mother's face Adam followed her back into the house, the slamming of the front door sounding like a death knell.

Unseen, unheard, and unfelt by any human, (and most creatures,) a wave of magic spread from the point of the explosion, gaining strength with every magical core it encountered. It drew from all of them, be the source human, creature, or even inanimate object, taking a small part of their magic into itself and warping it as it spread across the globe. When it got back to where it had started, the wave settled into place, wrapping everything on the planet within itself and getting to work.

* * *

AN;

All right guys, here's the deal; I've gotten stuck on Hide and Seek, so, in the interest of similar yet different, here's something that I started a long time ago.

HOWEVER! This story will only be worked on when I'm stuck on Hide and Seek, which means that there will not be a set update schedule, and it may be fairly erratic. Sorry, but that's the way it is.

Anyways, I hope you like what you've read so far, and if you like, or hate, it enough, maybe you'll let me know!


	2. Loop the Loophole

For most kids, summer was a time to laze about, watch TV, go swimming, get dragged camping by family and just generally relax after the rigours of the school year.

For one Harry J. Potter, resident wizard-in-training of Number Four, Privet Drive, summer was a time of back-breaking chores, semi-unbearable taunts about his heritage and longing for school to start back up again. Given the fact that the last school year had been his first year as a practicing wizard, returning to the painstaking normality of his Aunt and Uncle's house was almost physically painful.

Actually, given the way Harry was currently doubled over, it might actually be physically painful. How odd.

Harry grunted as a spasm of pain tore through his stomach, barely hearing his cousin's taunts about him having no friends as he concentrated on breathing.

He barely even registered replying to his whale of a cousin, only having a vague sense of impending regret as he staggered into the kitchen, sweaty and panting.

Aunt Petunia's swing at his head with her frying pan veered off course when she realized that he wasn't going to duck, and she stared more closely at him, taking in his glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Why didn't you say you were ill?" she demanded, "You're going to get Duddy sick! Take your food to your room and stay there until you feel better."

Harry simply nodded, scooping up the hunk of cheese and glass of water and staggering towards the stairs.

His room was a welcome relief; still cooler than outside, but without the gleaming sterility of the rest of the house, and Harry shoved the food and water onto his desk before stripping off his filthy clothes and collapsing onto his bed.

Something jumped out of the way and off the bed with startled yelp, and Harry lifted his head to look blurrily over at whatever it was.

It was small and thin, covered with what looked like an old pillowcase, with a nose as long and thin as a pencil and muddy green eyes the size of tennis balls.

"Harry Potter, sir?" it asked tentatively, and Harry let his head drop back onto the bed as another wave of pain wracked his body.

The creature moved closer, placing one long fingered hand on his forehead and frowning.

After a moment it drew back, its eyes worried as it looked at the boy in front of it.

Harry Potter was sick, and he, Dobby, could not spend enough time away from his family to take care of the great Harry Potter without making them suspicious. The muggles downstairs, Dobby had seen ignoring Harry Potter, and threatening him with a frying pan! Part of Dobby approved of that; it was a very house-elf like punishment, but most of him was horrified. Harry Potter was most certainly _not_ a house-elf!

But he was sick, Dobby reminded himself, and he couldn't stay here by himself.

"Dobby's warning can wait." The house-elf murmured, and vanished with a soft _crack_ of displaced air.

Luckily, his target was easy to find, though not as easy to find alone. Eventually, he had to give up on finding an opportunity while the boy was alone, and simply appeared in front of him while he was with only two others.

"Mister Wheezy! Mister Wheezy!" the elf said, hopping desperately on one foot, "You has to help Harry Potter!"

Three redheads stared at the elf, and he switched feet.

"You is the great Harry Potter's friend, yes? You has to help him!"

"Help him what?" the shortest of the three asked, glancing at his two identical older brothers as if they might know something about what was going on.

As one, both of them shook their heads at him. They didn't know.

"You is Harry Potter's Wheezy! Harry Potter is sick! You has to help him!"

One of the twins crouched, putting his head level with Dobby's. "What do you mean, he's sick. And how do you know? Are you Harry's elf?"

Dobby shook his head so hard his ears flapped against his bald head. "No. Dobby's masters does not know Dobby was seeing the great Harry Potter. They would be very angry if they knew. Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for this. Dobby was going to warn the great Harry Potter, but he couldn't, because Harry Potter is being sick! And Harry Potter's family is not doing anything!"

The other twin frowned, glancing at his younger brother, "Ron, run and get Mum, will you?"

The youngest boy nodded once and turned, running full tilt towards the haphazardly stuck together house.

"Now. Dobby, right?"

Dobby nodded, leaking tears onto his filthy pillowcase.

"What were you going to warn Harry about, Dobby?"

Dobby's eyes widened, and he looked back and forth between the twins, "Dobby cannot say. Dobby can only say that Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts this year. Harry Potter will be in grave danger if he goes back! There are bad plans going to happen, and Harry Potter must not be there."

The twins looked at each other, frowning slightly. "Dobby, if Harry would be in danger, would other students be in danger too?"

Dobby nodded slowly, then threw himself at the ground, trying to smash his head against the dry grass.

"Bad Dobby! Very bad Dobby!"

One of the twins darted forward and seized the elf around the middle, picking him up as the other shouted over Dobby's cries.

"The first rule of the Burrow is that house elves are not allowed to punish themselves!"

Dobby froze, then, slowly, relaxed, and the twin holding him set him down carefully.

"Didn't think we'd need to do that, eh Fred?" the one who'd picked the elf up said ruefully, and Fred shook his head.

"Seemed a bit more level headed than that."

Dobby looked at the ground, abashed. "Dobby is sorry... Dobby is not supposed to be saying anything about this."

Fred cocked his head to one side, thinking hard.

"Were you specifically ordered not to say anything about this particular matter?" his twin asked, and Dobby slowly shook his head.

"Dobby's master didn't know that Dobby heard him planning it..."

"And does your master have a kid going to Hogwarts this year too?" Fred asked, giving his twin a significant look.

Dobby nodded, then cringed.

"So..." George said slowly, "Your master's kid will be in danger this year at Hogwarts."

"But," A woman as red haired as the twins stepped around a tree and into view, eyeing her sons and the house elf thoughtfully, "If you tell us what you can, then we can stop there from being any danger at Hogwarts, and you won't have to punish yourself because you helped keep your master's son out of danger."

Dobby's eyes widened as he mulled that over in his head, then stared accusingly at the woman. "You is being tricksy..." he said, "That is being a loophole, Dobby thinks."

The woman nodded slightly, "But in this case, that loophole is what is going to keep all the students at Hogwarts,"

"Including Harry Potter," Fred interjected, ignoring his mother's dirty look,

"safe." She finished, folding her arms and staring expectantly at the little elf.

Slowly Dobby nodded, then looked up, staring into the distance. "Dobby's master is calling him. Dobby must go!"

Molly Weasley nodded instantly. "Come back when you can." She said simply, and watched as the elf snapped his fingers and vanished with a crack.  
-

AN;

Yup, still stuck on Hide and Seek, so you guys get two chapters in one day. Hooray for you! ^_^

Hope you all like it!


	3. Ring Around the Rosie

None of the Weasleys saw hide nor hair of the strange house elf for a few days, and after that they were too preoccupied to wonder much about when he was going to come back.

Fred retched into the bucket that sat on the floor next to his bed, groaning miserably as he lifted his pale face out of the bucket and pulled himself fully back onto his bed.

"Thank Merlin for vanishing charms." George joked weakly from his own bed, propping himself up on an elbow too look at his twin with worried, feverish eyes.

"Yeah," croaked Fred, reaching for his glass of water from the small table that sat between the two boys' beds.

Slowly their bedroom door creaked open and a dishevelled head of red hair poked into the room.

"You guys all right?" Ginny, the youngest Weasley asked, pushing the door all the way open and revealing herself to be wrapped in a thick down comforter. "I'm feeling a little better so I thought I'd heat up some soup for anyone that was awake."

Both the twins turned a delicate shade of green, and Ginny retreated hastily, pulling the door mostly closed so that she wouldn't run the risk of seeing either of them lose it.

"I'll just bring some biscuits then." She said, her voice muffled, and they heard her shuffling down the stairs, the comforter dragging behind her.

"I wonder how everyone else is doing?" George rasped, watching his brother take a slow sip of water, "This is miserable."

"I just don't understand why the potions aren't working." Fred replied, replacing the water on the bedside table and flopping over to lay on his back.

George followed suit, staring at the ceiling as he frowned. "It's weird that we all got sick after that house elf showed up."

Fred shrugged awkwardly, "He did say he'd just seen Harry, and that Harry was sick."

"Yeah."

The two were silent for a moment, then.

"Oh buggering hell!"

"Fuck!"

"You don't think..."

"Of course I do."

"And those muggles?"

"He said they weren't taking care of him."

George's voice was grim, and Fred was even paler than vomiting could make him.

"We'll have to get him."

Fred nodded, "It's been almost a week... you don't think...?"

George scowled ferociously, "He's fine. We just have to get him."

"We can use the car." Fred suggested, and George nodded, the two falling silent as they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside their room and their door creaked open.

"Here." Ginny said croakily, padding into the room with a plateful of bland biscuits. "These should at least give you something in your stomachs."

"Thanks." The twins chorused, smiling weakly at their sister as she turned to leave. "You're the best Gin-Gin."

Ginny snarled weakly at them for using the hated nickname, but left without seeking retribution, and the twins turned back to each other.

"Tonight?"

Fred nodded. "It'll have to be."

"Might as well get some sleep now then."

George rolled over, and Fred's worried frown deepened as he saw the patch of purple skin on his twin's back had spread from the night before. His whole back was almost covered in a uniform shade of dark purple.

Still, Fred sighed, rolling over to face the wall. He had to sleep while he could, they were gonna have a long night ahead of them.

All too soon, however, they were waking up, the lengthening shadows in their room telling them that the sun would soon be completely down.

Without words, the two of them got up and got dressed; occasionally leaning on each other for balance or when their strength seemed about to give out, but as the shadows deepened those instances grew fewer and fewer.

Finally, the sun set completely, and, with a shared glance, the two of them crept to their door and opened it, fully prepared to feel their way down the stairs, since they didn't want to risk turning on the lights and alerting anyone else to their exodus.

Instead, to their surprise, both of them could see clearly in the darkness of the stairwell, which allowed them to get downstairs and slip out the front door in record time.

"That was weird, brother mine."

"That it was."

It only took the two of them a few moments to get the car out of the garage and coast it down the gentle slope to the main road before starting it and lifting into the air.

All in all, the trip passed relatively quickly, as the twins each sat with their thoughts in uncharacteristic silence until,

"So how are we going to find him?" George asked turning the steering wheel and glancing at the compass on the dashboard as the car swooped into a wide turn.

Fred shrugged. "He lives in Little Whinging, right? How big can it be? We'll land outside the town and drive in, looking for his street. It shouldn't be too hard."

George glanced over; one eyebrow lifted sceptically, then shrugged as his twin unfolded a map and began muttering to himself.

Thankfully, it did turn out to be just that easy, but upon finding Number Four, the two were stumped again.

"Which room's his, d'you think?" Fred mused, staring at the excruciatingly plain looking house.

"Dunno." George replied, and removed the keys from the ignition. "Think we'd have a better chance if we look around though, yeah?"

Fred nodded, and the two red heads crept out of the car and around the house, eyeing each of the second story windows as they came across them.

"That one's got bars," Fred said suddenly, pointing at a window overlooking the back yard, "Y'don't think they put 'em up to keep his owl from going out, do you?"

"It's as good a bet as any," George said grimly, "C'mon, let's get the car."

It was the work of a few minutes to rip the bars off of the window, and when George backed the car carefully up next to the window, Fred was relieved to find it open.

"Harry." He hissed into the dark room. "Harry, are you there?"

A lump on the bed beneath the window shifted slightly, and a hoarse moan drifted up to his ears as he sighed in relief.

"Be right back," he muttered to his brother, and climbed, catlike, through the window.

Fred nearly launched himself right back out. The smell of vomit saturated the air, and he was almost certain that the miserable looking owl in the padlocked cage would have loved nothing more than to be anywhere other than the room they were currently in.

Silently he crossed the room, gagging when he heard something squish under his foot, and picked up the cage.

"We're here to rescue Harry," he told the owl quietly, "Just be quiet and we'll get you and him out of here."

Moving quickly, (and avoiding whatever had squished before,) Fred handed the owl out the window with whisper for George to let her out while he grabbed Harry.

"Harry!" he hissed, peering at the lump on the bed. "Harry is that you?"

The lump shifted slightly, and Fred gently pulled back the covers, his eyes widening at what he saw before he crouched next to the bed and shook the younger boy gently.

"Harry, we're here to take you home with us. It's Fred, you know? Ron's older brother? We need to know where your stuff is. Just wake up a little and we'll go get it for you."

Harry shifted again; one green eye opened blearily, sleep crusting the lids.

"Cupboard... under the stairs..." he said, his voice harsh as a raven's croak, and Fred nodded, gathering the boy in his arms and moving back to the window.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly as George took charge of the younger boy, "I'm grabbing his stuff."

It took him a bit longer than he'd thought to get Harry's door unlocked, and to unlock the cupboard under the stairs, but he was lucky in the fact that the other boy's trunk wasn't too heavy and that the rest of the house seemed to be empty, so he didn't worry about making noise as he hefted the trunk back up the stairs and into Harry's room.

"Ready?" Fred called, and George's white face appeared in the window.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" he hissed, and Fred waved him off.

"The place is empty." He told his brother, "I don't know where they are, but they're not here."

"Hurry up then." George said, and retreated from the window to allow Fred to slide the trunk out and into the boot of the car.

Glancing worriedly at the bundle of blankets in the back seat, Fred clambered back into the front, and the trio soared away from the house and into the night.  
-

AN;

All right, that's a good bit darker than I was expecting it to turn out...

Sorry if you're disturbed by this. I know the category is humor... which it's supposed to be... *le sigh* anyways, I guess I'll just have to bring the funny later.

Also, the chapter title does actually have something to do with the chapter. The rhyme, Ring around the Rosie was actually created to list the symptoms of the Black Plague, and with everyone getting sick, well...

Anyways, see you all next time I'm blocked on Hide and Seek!

Darkingfire


	4. Settling Changes

Luck was, apparently, with them, and they soared back into view of the Burrow moments before the sun crested the horizon, touching down with hardly a bump and using the momentum to coast the car back into the garage.

"We'll have to sneak him into Ron's room." Fred said, slipping out of the passenger side and opening the back door to the car.

George scoffed, climbing stiffly out of the driver's side and stretching, moaning slightly as his back popped several times.

"Ron's not in any shape to take care of him," he said, popping the boot open and staring at the trunk inside before deciding to leave it where it was. "He can kip in our room, where we can keep an eye on him. I don't know about you, but I feel way better than I have since we got this."

Fred nodded, ignoring the fact that his brother couldn't see him as he bent over in the back seat of the car, scooping the worryingly small bundle of blankets and boy up into his arms and following his brother out of the garage and into the light of the rising sun.

"Hang on a tick." George said softly, going over to shut the garage door and replace the padlock that they'd taken off the handles.

"All right, let's gwoah!"

Fred turned to look at his twin and saw what had caused the unexpected exclamation.

"Woah is right..." Fred breathed, creeping closer to his brother and staring at the deep purple skin of his face.

"You too." George said sounding fascinated by the change as he circled his brother, huffing in annoyance as Fred turned to keep him in view before slapping his shoulders lightly to make him stay in place.

"You two are so busted," A familiar voice said dryly, and the two ceased their inspection in favour of cringing as they turned to face their bathrobe-clad little sister.

"Ah," George said, glancing helplessly at Fred, who simply stared.

Ginny scowled. "This had better not be one of your pranks, you bloody prats." She said threateningly, though the effect was slightly ruined by the fisherman's hat she was wearing.

George held up his hands in a placating manner, "It's not, I swear! You know we don't go for such long term effects."

Ginny relaxed slightly, nodding. "Yeah, I know, but mum's in there going bonkers. I guess on the up side everyone's feeling better. The down side is..." she gestured at them, then made a vague gesture behind her, blushing slightly, and Fred leaned slightly to one side, his mouth dropping open as he caught a glimpse of what she'd been referring to.

"No way..."

George looked between the two, his gaze darting back and forth. "What? What's going on?"

"Go on Gin-gin," Fred sniggered, "Turn around and show him."

Ginny glared death at Fred, but slowly turned on the spot, revealing to George a hole cut into the back of the bathrobe, right about at tailbone level, with a long tail extending through it, the tip curled to avoid brushing the ground.

"Wow..." was all George could say, and Ginny snorted, turning back around to face them.

"Mum and the others are worse, but it seems like whatever made us sick went away once the changes were made."

Fred glanced down at the bundle he held in his arms, shifting the weight slightly as he more obviously looked over at his twin.

"So then, how do we change back?" he asked, "Because twin of mine, you really don't look good in purple."

Ginny shrugged as George mock-glared at his brother, turning to head back into the warmth of the house.

"Dunno, but Mum said she was going to floo Saint Mungo's and see if they knew anything about it. Though if they're still as overcrowded as they were when we first got sick, I doubt it."

The twins followed her to the house, cringing slightly as muffled shouting became audible when they were still a good three meters away.

"Oh by the way," Ginny said brightly, "Mum knows you took the car."

As one they gulped, and Ginny giggled, the sound echoing in their ears like the slam of the gates of hell itself as she traversed the remaining distance and opened the front door.

"Mum! They're home!"

Silence fell, and they'd almost made it to the doorway when their mother appeared before them, wielding a sizzling frying pan like it was the flaming sword of the Archangel Michael.

"And just where," she demanded, waggling the frying pan menacingly, "have you two been all night?"

"Erm..." Fred said intelligently.

"Getting Harry?" George tried, and Molly Weasley glowered at her son.

"Oh really." She said dangerously, using her wand to absentmindedly flip the eggs that were still frying in the pan, "So where is he then? I take it you did make it, since you're back before dawn, and looking quite pleased with yourselves."

Both boys hastily tried to look as ashamed of themselves as they could, shuffling their feet and staring at the ground.

Molly sighed, watching their attempts bemusedly before turning back into the house.

"Just get in here," she called over her shoulder, "And bring Harry from wherever you've stashed him."

"That's the thing mum," Fred said, kicking his shoes off in the entryway with the ease of long practice and following her into the kitchen. "Harry was sick too. With the same thing, we think. He's in here."

Molly glanced over as Fred shifted the blankets again, and then blanched.

"Dear Merlin. Fred, you had better be joking. Those blankets are filthy!"

Fred nodded, "Yeah, but we didn't think to take any other blankets or anything with us, so we had to just grab what he had on his bed."

George plopped down on the other side of the table, examining his mother as she went about making breakfast.

"Fred." He finally hissed, "Why are you ignoring the gigantic thing with teeth sticking out the back of her _head_!?"

"Because," Fred whispered back out of the corner of his mouth, "maybe if we don't bring it up she'll forget about punishing us for taking the car?"

George gaped at his brother, "What? But that has nothing to do with it!"

"I know." Molly said, placing a plate in front of each of them with slightly more force than was necessary, "And I can hear you. And no, you're not off the hook."

She took the bundle of blankets and Harry from Fred and retreated to the living room as the two boys started to scarf down their food, actually feeling hungry for the first time in almost a week.

"Let's take a look at you." Molly murmured, gently laying the frighteningly light bundle of blankets on the couch and kneeling down next to it as she unwrapped the blankets.

"Mrrglephmph"

She smiled softly, tugging gently on blankets that seemed to have taken on a life of their own and insisted on wrapping themselves into a ball.

"Harry dear, you need to get up and eat something, or at least get something to drink."

The blankets stilled.

"Phrudsnmrgle."

Thanking Merlin she'd had Ronnie and could understand sleep gibberish, Molly's smile widened and she nodded, "Yes dear, there's breakfast waiting for you."

Slowly the blankets inched open, revealing one sleepy green eye.

"Hemswesly."

"Hello dear. How do you like your eggs?"

The eye thought a moment then; "scrmbldggspls."

Molly nodded, "You'll have to come to the table to eat, if you're feeling up to it though. We've mice, and they get insufferable if we get food all over the place. The kitchen is mouse proofed though."

"K."

The eye vanished again, but the blankets slid off the couch and onto the floor and started moving out of her way, waiting by the door for her to go past so that they could follow her into the kitchen.

"Just go ahead and sit down wherever," she said, waving towards the kitchen table where Fred and George were sitting.

"Heya Harry." George said, glancing up from his toast and giving a half wave. "Good to see you in the blankets."

Fred snickered into his ketchup smothered eggs and kicked a chair out from under the table,

"Is it just me or did you get shorter?" he asked, watching the walking bundle of blankets settle into the chair and lean forward onto the table.

"Cffe." They grunted, and the twins looked at each other, shrugged, and George poured out a mug-full of a thick, tar-like substance from the pot sitting in the centre of the table.

"You're funeral mate, this is Dad's stuff. We're not even sure it isn't part petrol."

Blankets reached out and snagged the handle of the mug, making it vanish beneath another fold for a long moment before it re-emerged half empty with a satisfied sigh following close after it.

"Blimey Harry," Fred said, his voice awed as he peered into the steaming mug, "No wonder you're so short."

"You should see him down the stuff at school." Ron's voice said, and a slightly chubby thing that was dark teal on top and pale tan down its front emerged from the stairwell. The only thing that actually let his brothers, mother, and best friend know that it was even a Weasley was the bright red shock of hair on its head that clashed spectacularly with the rest of its body.

"What?" he said irritably, "'Snot like you lot are any better."


	5. It's All in His Head!

Ron crossed the room and, with some difficulty, turned a chair around and clambered into it, ignoring his brothers' snickers when he had to sit on his knees to see over the edge of the table.

Glad no one was watching, Harry took the opportunity to pull the blankets off his head and get a better look at the four Weasleys.

Fred and George were, not surprisingly, still identical, but their purple skin clashed horrifically with their bright red hair. A pair of strange, double spiked things seemed to have replaced their ears, and from where Harry was sitting he could see the occasional glint of something shiny and red underneath the collar of George's shirt.

Their teeth seemed to have become extremely sharp, if the gouges that were being left on their cutlery were any indication, but the two didn't even seem to notice (or care) that they were consuming metal shavings along with their eggs, so Harry didn't feel like pointing it out to them.

And really, Harry thought to himself, they were two to talk about him getting shorter.

Indeed, both of the twins had shrunk greatly, to the point where, while they had towered over their mother before, now she was a good twenty centimetres taller than they were.

"No way," Fred said, turning to stare at his mother with wide eyes.

"I think he's right George," Molly said, turning from the stove and propping her yellow-tinged hands on her hips, and George glanced up from scraping the last of his eggs onto his toast.

"I'm George," he informed her, frowning slightly as Fred got up to go over and stand next to her.

Molly smiled delightedly when she could, indeed, look down once again at one of her boys, and hugged the disgruntled Fred before handing him a full plate.

"Give this to Harry please, Fred."

Ginny emerged from the stairwell, now dressed in normal clothes and yawning slightly.

"What's this about the twins being shorter than Mum now?"

Ron frowned at his sister, "How long were you standing out there then?" he asked, and Ginny scowled back.

"I wasn't." She said, crossing her arms, "I heard someone say something about that in my room."

"Yeah, Harry said that," George said casually, and Ginny's eyes flew around the room, finally landing on the one unfamiliar face as she let out a squeak.

"Oh..." she said, blushing furiously, and Harry retreated back into his blankets.

"I'm not all that great." He said softly, his words further muffled by the blankets as Ginny retreated back up the stairs.

"She's been going on about you since she was five." Ron said casually, "I expect she'll be following you around whenever she thinks you won't notice."

"I want to know how she heard Harry in her room. It's not like he was shouting, and she's on the third floor." Fred said, snagging Harry's blankets off his head and placing the full plate in front of him as he retook his seat.

"I didn't say anything." Harry protested quietly, glaring mildly at Fred as he tried futilely to bring some semblance of order to the tangled rat's nest that was his hair.

Molly frowned and brought a second loaded plate to the table to set in front of Ron. "What do you mean dear? We all heard you. Ronald Weasley, why aren't you wearing a shirt? And turn your chair around! I know you know better than that."

Ron looked up, his eyes wide. "Ah, mum, no! I can't. I mean, I tried, but it's not a good idea."

"Nonsense. Go put a shirt on."

Ron sighed dejectedly and slid out of his chair, grumbling under his breath as he stalked to the stairwell and vanished up the stairs.

Harry slumped in his seat, then sighed and straightened up so he could see over the edge of the table.

Why didn't she believe him? He really _hadn't_ said anything.

With a near silent sigh, Harry scooped up a forkful of scrambled eggs and shoved them into his mouth, trying not to let them fall out as he realized his face was suddenly shaped differently and he had to figure out how to compensate.

"So Harry," Fred said casually, watching Harry chew out of the corner of his eye, "Where'd the muggles go?"

Muggles? Oh, he must have meant the Dursleys.

"Yeah, them." George chimed in, and harry shrugged, swallowing.

"I'm not sure." He said, and took another swallow of his coffee, "I think they might have gone to the hospital when Dudley got sick."

"You did it again!" Fred erupted, pointing excitedly at Harry, "You were right, you didn't say anything, but we all heard say the Dursleys!"

Harry frowned, "So... you can all read my mind?"

"I don't think so Harry," Molly said from the kitchen, huffing in annoyance as she pushed one of the two bits of her hair that hung down next to her face out of her eyes for what had to be the umpteenth time. "Otherwise we'd all be reading each other's minds. Try thinking something again, and we'll see what happens."

_Please don't work, please don't work, please don't work... _Harry thought desperately, and the twins looked uncomfortable.

"Sorry mate," Fred said, "but yeah, I heard that."

"Me too." George said solemnly, and Molly set aside her cooking and came over to give Harry a hug.

"Don't worry dear, I'm sure there's a good explanation for all of this... in the mean time, you just eat your breakfast and I'll floo Saint Mungo's now. Tell whoever comes down next that there's plates all made up in the kitchen." She added, going back through to the living room.

A bright green flash of light startled Harry, but when it just faded to a steady glow he relaxed slightly.

"It's the floo," George explained rubbing absently at his chest where the red shiny thing sat, "Wizards can talk through the fire with each other."

Harry relaxed further at that, and proceeded to polish off his breakfast, doing his best to ignore the twins and their discussion about the strange changes going on.

When Ron came back downstairs, he looked distinctly uncomfortable, but before Fred or George could say anything, Molly came back into the room looking troubled.

"Is Saint Mungo's still full?" George asked, as the stumbling sounds of someone still half asleep came down the stairs.

"No," his mother replied, "In fact, they're starting to release people already."

"Really?" An unfamiliar man's voice said excitedly, "That's wonderful news! We'll have to pop over there soon so that we can go back to normal."

"Good morning Arthur," Molly said fondly, crossing the room to give her odd looking husband a kiss, "but that's the problem dear. They can't figure out how to change people back."

"So they're just sending people home looking all wonky?" Ron asked incredulously, "But that's ridiculous! What if someone gets hurt!"

"That's not all," Molly said worriedly, "Even the muggles are getting sick and changing. If this keeps up, we might not be able to hide from them much longer."

"They're treating it like a plague." Harry offered, "Or at least they were the last I heard about it on the radio."

"Oh dear..." Molly tutted, and shooed her husband towards the kitchen table, bustling around to grab him a plate and pour him some coffee before sitting down herself.

"This is weird." Fred said seriously, "I mean, really, really weird."

Harry partially tuned them out, choosing instead to study Mr and Mrs Weasley as they spoke with their children.

He'd never met Mr Weasley before, so he couldn't tell what had changed, but Harry was almost positive that bright yellow was not the man's normal skin tone, and that both the red gem set in his forehead and the long tail with its gemlike ball on the end also probably weren't normal for him. His ears were no longer in the usual place either, or the usual shape. Instead they were slightly conical and had migrated more towards the top of his head, with two black stripes ringing them, one nearer the base of each ear, and the other covering the tips. More black stripes ringed his neck three times, and the end of his tail near the red orb had another three.

Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, was also yellow, but much more muted and toned down. Her hair was as red as it had ever been, but with black streaks all through it, especially where two bits seemed to have grown longer to frame her face.

Sticking out of the top of her head was a sort of black stalk that led to an enormous black thing that was seamed along the middle, slightly flat, and had what looked like fangs overlapping the edges every so often. A large yellow spot at the thickest point of the thing that Harry was reasonably sure was a mouth completed the changes he could see.

Harry frowned. All these things reminded him of something, but he couldn't figure out quite what. It was like he was trying to recall a dream he'd had years ago, with only the vaguest of ideas of what it was about.

Something to do with muggles though, and Dudley's video games.

"Oh bugger..." the anxiety in Ron's voice brought Harry out of his reverie, and he looked up just in time to see his friend sneeze violently, and his back burst into flames.

"Waugh!" George shoved himself back away from his younger brother so fast that his chair tipped over backwards, and Ron laughed as Fred, Molly and Arthur all scrambled away from him.

His laughter was cut short, however, when a jet of water shooting out of his mother's wand struck him full in the face and put out the flames.

"Ron?! Ronnie are you okay?" she cried, semi hysterically, rushing over to her youngest son and frantically checking him over for burns.

"Mum! Gerroff! I'm fine!"

"You most certainly aren't!" she cried, "You just burst into flames!"

"Yeah," Ron said, sliding the ruins of his shirt off like a backwards vest, "But this is the third time it's happened since I woke up. That's why I wasn't wearing a shirt."

Molly paused as Ron turned his back toward her, reaching over one of his shoulders and pointing blindly at his back.

"Best I can figure, the fire comes out of those spots. It doesn't seem to burn me, but it does anything else."

Fred poked his head around his mother's elbow, watching as she prodded at one of the four reddish spots on his brother's back.

"So what, we turned purple and ickle-Ronniekins turned into a walking torch?" George asked, peering over his twin's shoulder and prodding another of the spots, "We were so gypped."

"Can you... not?" Mr Weasley asked, watching his son intently, and Ron shrugged.

"Dunno. It usually just pops up randomly and then dies off before I get a chance to try to control it."

_I'd rather be purple than an open book..._

Arthur jumped, looking around. "Who said that?"

"It was just Harry, Dad." Fred said absently, "Though yeah, he does have a point."

"Harry? Harry who?"

Harry waved at him, resisting the urge to hide in his blankets again as the man finally spotted him.

"Good lord, it's Harry Potter!"

Harry sighed quietly as the man made his way around the table to shake his hand.

"Ron's told us all about you, of course. It's very nice to meet you at last."

"It's nice to meet you too, sir." Harry said politely, tucking his hand back under the blanket and doing his best to focus through the swarm of images and ideas that had flowed through his contact with the man, though one in particular stuck out.

"Also, a rubber duck is a children's toy that's usually used in the bath." He said, and for a moment Mr Weasley looked confused, then his face lit up and sat down in Fred's vacant chair.

"Is it really? How fascinating! What about-"

"Speaking of baths," Fred interrupted loudly, "Harry, if you want to shower, the loo is the only door on the fourth landing. You can't miss it."

Harry nodded gratefully as Arthur looked slightly abashed.

"Maybe you can pick my brain later," Harry said, feeling a bit sorry for the man, who brightened up again as Harry slid off his chair and started up the stairs; blankets trailing on the floor after him.

A rack full of clean towels was hanging on one of the bathroom's walls, and Harry divested himself of the filthy blanket and his equally filthy clothing with no small sense of relief, depositing them in the dirty laundry hamper and jumping when it began to chug, emitting sounds like a muggle washing machine.

He'd stayed all wrapped up because he'd been worried about the Weasleys getting upset about the changes that had been wrought on him, but in light of all the changes they'd undergone, and apparently so had a great deal of Wizarding Britain as well, maybe it'd be okay to ditch the blanket for good. It was slightly uncomfortable to cover his ears up like that.

Sighing with frustration, Harry looked up at the sink and the mirror above it, cursing whatever it was that had robbed him of his height. Granted, he'd still been fairly short, but this was just ridiculous. He couldn't even see over the edge of the counter now.

Grumbling, Harry grabbed the edge of the counter jumped, doing his best to pull himself up onto it so that he could take a look at himself in the mirror and figure out the extent of his changes. He'd been too sick to do so when the Dursleys had gone; barely even managing to make himself eat some extremely bland biscuits and drink some water on a regular basis.

His fingers slipped, and he fell back to the ground, yelping as his foot landed on something Harry was positive he hadn't had before.

Furiously scrubbing at his watering eyes, Harry ignored the tail and looked around the bathroom, searching for something that would help him see above the level of the counter. His eyes landed on the toilet, which was, conveniently, located right next to the counter, with only enough space between the two for a small trash can.

After that it was the work of moments to climb onto the toilet lid and from there onto the counter so he could begin cataloguing his own changes. Maybe if he did he'd be able to figure out what had been niggling at the back of his mind.

The first major difference, aside from the tail, was his hair. Normally stark black and messy, now pale pink streaks ran through it, much like black streaks had run through Mrs Weasley's hair. Triangular ears that reminded him a bit of a cat protruded very slightly through the hair near the top of the sides of his head, and he groaned when he saw that they too were pink. His face had changed shape as well, becoming slightly more triangular and catlike, with a tiny, muzzle-like nose and mouth that contained many tiny, sharp teeth.

On closer inspection, Harry realized that his whole body was covered in an extremely fine layer of pink fur, and that the bulb-y looking end of his tail was actually a tuft of fur.

"I look like a gerbil." He muttered, turning sideways to look at how his legs had changed shape.

And indeed, his thighs had shortened, though his shins had remained the same length. What had really changed, however, were his feet. Instead of the normal, human foot, his ankle led to an extremely long, flat arch that made him stand more on his toes than anything else.

When he tried to stand on the 'arch', it was so uncomfortable that he instantly stopped and resolved not to try that again.

"Well, at least I'm not yellow..." he murmured, hopping down off the counter and heading towards the shower.  
-

AN;

Edit- This chapter has now been betaed.

All right, here's chapter five! Wow, I've been on a writing spree the last few days, it ridiculous. Still, I'm feeling pretty proud of myself about it all.

I used the Wikipedia entry on Jerboas (mostly the skeleton picture, which I imagine to be almost exactly like a Mew skeleton) to help me do the description of Harry, but since Mew spend most of their time floating, I figured that the longer arch of the foot would have eventually weakened since it's not used as much. That led to Harry's discomfort when trying to stand completely flat.

Also, it's been pointed out (by my beta) that the twin's cross is really hard to figure out, since they're missing the thing that characterizes that particular pokèmon. To that I say that they can't have that characterizing feature without going through the requisite steps to get that feature. In this case, they haven't eaten what they need to be eating.

I don't suppose anyone could shoot me a review letting me know if I'm keeping in character all right? Or with suggestions for certain mixes? Or even just telling me that I suck for re-doing such a clichéd crossover?

Either way, thanks to everyone who's faved, followed, or reviewed. I smile every time I see a new one.

Thanks for reading, everyone, and I'll see you all next chapter!

Darkingfire


	6. Five, Five New Tails, ah, ah, ah

Ginny sighed as she heard the water begin running, glancing up at the ceiling. At least now it was safe for her to go downstairs; after all, the twins can't embarrass you if you aren't around to embarrass.

A slight tugging at the base of her spine made her look over her shoulder and sigh. The first tail had been fine. Actually, it had been kinda cute. But then it had split in two, and she'd had two tails, until a few minutes after that, when both of those tails had split, and she'd had four.

This time it looked like just one of the tails was splitting, leaving her with five luxurious red-brown tails, all of which seemed to start at a common point at the base of her spine. They were all of equal length, which meant that if she uncurled the tips of the tails they would have drug on the ground. But they each fell into a curl as naturally as breathing, so she didn't worry about them.

Stripping off the bathrobe she'd worn outside Ginny worked her tails out of the hole she'd cut, (wincing slightly as it ripped wider) before tossing it across the room to land on her hamper and turning back to the mirror.

Instead of the usual image that looked back at her, she was greeted by a creature that could at best be described as 'cute'.

Large fox-like ears perched on top of her head, big brown eyes, a tiny muzzle, and five tails were the most immediately noticeable features, but if someone were to look more closely, they'd see that what looked at first to be a tan was actually a thin layer of red-brown fur that just barely concealed her skin. The tops of her hands and feet were both covered in more fur the colour of milk chocolate, and a bib of cream coloured fur ran from the tiny point of her chin, down her chest and stomach to disappear behind the seam of her panties.

Previously bone straight hair red hair now held a significant curl at the ends, and brown eyes narrowed as Ginny ran her hands through her hair, then paused.

"Well that's just gorgeous." She said sarcastically, holding her hands out in front of herself and eyeing the black claws that had easily replaced her fingernails. "This is absolutely mad."

She twisted, peering over her shoulder at where the tails forced the back of her panties down and sighed.

Grumbling softly to herself, Ginny crossed her room and opened her small closet, silently thanking the first deity that came into her head that it was still summer, since trying to wear a sundress in any other season would have been pushing it.

Pale yellow fabric caught her eye, and a quick tug pulled the tank-dress off the hanger.

After that it was a matter of wrestling it on, swearing quietly as the straps got looped over the cumbersomely large ears, and the tails decided to try lifting the back up and exposing her rear for the world to see.

Still, it wasn't too bad, she thought, eyeing herself in the mirror as she belted the excess fabric around her waist. She just wished that having clothes on over fur didn't feel so _weird_. It was like she was being cut off from an entirely new sense, and it was one she missed instantly. Still, mum would skin her alive if she ran around starkers, and fur or not, it definitely didn't cover near enough to justify it.

The stairs provided an entirely new challenge, and Ginny grumbled more as she carefully navigated her way down to the kitchen. Honestly, she couldn't remember having this many problems going down stairs since she was five. Still, she supposed the recent height decrease had to have something to do with it.

"-Arthur," warmly exasperated, Molly Weasley's voice drifted up the last flight of stairs and Ginny paused, her ears perking up. "You can't mean to send the boy back to his relatives. Fred and George say that they just left him there in his room, and from the looks of the house they'd been gone a while."

"Molly," her dad's voice was weary, "We can't keep him here, it's practically kidnapping."

"No it's not!" Ron's voice piped up unexpectedly, and Ginny raised an eyebrow as she descended a few more steps. "I invited Harry to come stay with us this summer, remember? He's just taking us up on the offer."

"Yeah." One of the twins this time, siding with Ron for once, "His relatives didn't want to drive him all the way out here, so we went to pick him up."

Ginny could just imagine the look on her dad's face as the silence grew more prolonged, and finally he sighed.

"All right." He said, and Ron let out a muffled whoop, "But Fred, you and George will send Professor Dumbledore a letter letting him know what you found and that Harry will be staying with us for the rest of the summer. He'll be able to smooth things over with the Ministry if the muggles decide they want to launch a missing persons investigation."

"I'll send an owl to the house," Molly suggested, "letting them know that we'll take Harry with us to catch the train to Hogwarts."

Ginny leapt down the last few stairs, landing with a thump and a yelp as she accidentally stomped on one of her own tails and fell into the kitchen.

_So much for _subtly_ letting them know I was coming in._ She grumbled sourly to herself, and climbed to her feet, ignoring the snickers from the twins.

"There you are Ginny dear. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine mum. I'm just having a hard time managing these stupid bloody _tails_."

Molly frowned slightly, propping her hands on her hips and surveying her daughter.

"I thought you only had one?" one of the twins said, and Ginny sighed, going to stand in front of her mother and facing her brothers at the same time as she lifted the back of the sundress.

"The first one split. Now I have five."

Ron boggled.

"Are you serious?"

Ginny just looked at him as she flicked the tails into view all around her, ignoring her mother's soft mumbling about seams and excess fabric.

"Woah..." one of the twins said softly, and Ginny dropped them back into the position they seemed to be the most comfortable.

"How can you even control those?" The other twin asked, looking fascinated, and Ginny shrugged.

"I dunno... for the most part, it's just easier to ignore 'em. It's like..." she paused for a moment, trying to think of an analogy that would fit. "It's like having a set of extra fingers. Or um... you know how when you actually think about how to spell something simple, like butter? And all of a sudden it's really hard to remember how to spell it? But if you don't think about it at all it just comes out? It's like that. The less I think about the tails, the easier it is."

Her brothers looked nonplussed, and Ginny looked helplessly over at her dad, only to scowl at the amused smile he was aiming at her.

"All right Ginny," Molly said, flipping the skirt of the dress down and straightening up, "Undo the belt and we'll see what I can do."

The extra foot of fabric pooled around her ankles, and she sighed as her mother got to work trimming and stitching with quick pokes of her wand.

She ignored Fred and George as they started to wonder loudly if the Boy-Who-Lived was trying to drown himself in their shower, but giggled slightly at their outrageousness as they started to compose his obituary.

"All right Ginny, turn and let me see you."

Obediently, Ginny turned, noticing with some relief that her tails were no longer trying to lift the back of her skirt as Molly tugged and poked at the dress a bit more before leaning back with a satisfied smile.

"That'll work. You'll have to bring down your other clothes for me to alter though, and you lot as well," she added, looking at her menfolk, "I don't want anyone complaining about not having clothes to wear. And yes Ron, that means shirts too. You can't go around Hogwarts with nothing on; you'll catch your death of cold."

"Not to mention it's against the dress code." A hoarse voice said, and the twins groaned in unison as Percy emerged from the stairwell. "Mother, who's in the shower?"

"Great, perfect prefect Percy's up and about finally." Fred grumbled, and jumped when his usually taciturn older brother _snarled_ at him.

George hissed back, baring razor sharp, serrated teeth, and Percy's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"What on earth has gotten in to you three!?" Molly demanded, moving to stand in between the three brothers as the black mouth growing from the top of her head began to mouth irritably.

"Oh look," Fred hissed, his eyes glittering oddly, "Mummy's got to come save her precious ickle Percykins, just like always."

Ron backed away from the twins as George fell in with Fred, both mirroring each other's posture as a low growl erupted from Percy's chest.

"That's enough!" Molly cried, and black mouth shot towards the twins just as Percy launched himself off the last step towards his brothers.

Ginny watched wide eyed as her usually mild-mannered father _appeared_ in front of his charging child and slammed him to the floor as her mother's second mouth snapped shut just short of the twin's face, making both of them flinch and falter.

"Bloody hell..." Ron breathed, and flinched himself as his mother turned her wild red eyes on him.

"Mum?" he said tentatively when she made no move towards him, and she shuddered a couple of times before starting to blink rapidly.

"Ronnie?" she turned, "Fred? George?"

"All right there Molly?" Arthur asked, his voice grim from where he sat on Percy's back.

"Yes..." she said shakily, and Ginny pulled a chair away from the table, watching her mother collapse into it with wary eyes.

"Perce, are you all right now?" Arthur asked. A muffled grunt was his answer, but he took it as a yes, climbing off his oldest at home child and reaching down to give him a hand up.

"And you two," he said, staring hard at the twins, "What was that?"

"I don't..." Fred started helplessly, spreading his hands wide,

"It was like..." George continued, then stopped, equally as speechless.

"It's because he's a normal type."

Once again everyone turned to the stairwell, staring at the tiny pink form of Wizarding Britain's most acclaimed celebrity.

"_Excuse _me?"

Harry sighed, shuffling into the room with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist and the bulby tip of his tail poking out the bottom.

"Look," he said, "I don't know anything more than you about what's going on, but apparently Hermione at least knows what we've been turned in to."

"Really?" Ron asked, "She sent you an owl then?"

Harry hesitated. "Not exactly..."

"Then how d'you know she knows?"

"She told me?" Harry tried.

"Harry..." Ron said cautiously, "Hermione isn't here. She's in Greenwich with her mum and dad for the holiday, remember?"

Harry scowled, leaning back against a wall and surveying the assembled Weasleys.

"I know that Ron, but she- just- it's-" his breath left him in a huff, and he sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"Much as we're sure Ginny's loving the show mate," Fred started, "D'you think you could put on some clothes?"

Ginny's growl went unheard as Harry glanced over at the red headed, purple skinned twins.

"Well I could," he said casually, "But some people decided that my trunk was to be left in the boot of the car, remember?"

Arthur glanced sidelong at the twins, who chuckled nervously in unison and made a break for the door.  
-

AN-

Welcome to NaNoWriMo! For those of you who don't know what that is, Google it! For those of you that do, awesome!

Now I know most authors will put their fanfics on hold for this month, but that won't be happening here. I've decided that this fic, along with Hide and Seek will be my projects for the month, as well as something else that popped into my head. However, one of the rules is that we can't share what we're writing with other participants, and since Prince Demitri is participating, that means that any chapters that are posted for any of my stories this month will _not_ be betaed until December.

Thanks, as usual, for all of your reviews, faves and follows, and I look forward to writing my fingers off this month. ^_^

Thanks again,

Darkingfire.


	7. A Dragon Drops in

"So what was all of that about?" Arthur prompted, peering intently at Harry, who sighed as the front door shut with a click.

"Yeah mate, and what'd you mean, Hermione told you what was going on?" Ron asked, still stuck on that how the third member of their group could have contacted Harry.

Harry sighed again and moved over to sit at a chair, trying as hard as he could to walk normally when his legs were no longer built quite right for it.

"Apparently," Harry said, scrambling up into a chair and trying to keep from revealing anything too revealing to his best friend's family, "in the muggle world, there's a game." A slight wince as more information flowed, "And there's a show that goes with it. It's called Pokemon, and Hermione says it's very popular among muggles."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron asked, even as Arthur's eyes widened, then narrowed.

"Yes Harry," Percy said, having regained some of his previous pomp. "what are you trying to say?"

Harry growled in frustration. "I'm not saying anything. Hermione is. It's like..." he paused then sighed.

"All right, she says that it'll be easier to understand if I finish telling you what she's learned."

"The game the muggles play is called Pokemon, which is a compound word based off the phrase Pocket Monsters." Harry ignored Ron's open mouth, plowing on with the information Hermione was feeding him. "It's set in a different world, where many of the animals in this world don't exist, instead being replaced by creatures that may look and act similar, but have strange abilities." He paused as the front door banged open, admitting the twins and his trunk, and Harry gladly slid off his chair in favour of hop-stepping over to where they dropped it.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, absently rummaging through his trunk and pulling out the best fitting of the too-large hand-me-downs from Dudley.

As he retreated back up the stairs he heard Arthur start to fill the twin in on what was going on, even as Percy wondered quietly when he'd lost it.

That last comment almost made him turn around and confront the older boy, but he swallowed the impulse and continued.

That's very good, Harry. Hermione said, and Harry heard the approval in her mental voice even with it being as weak as it was. I am sorry that I can't be there to explain it all, but electronics don't work in areas with high magic, and I'm trying to do research on these 'Pokemon'.

Harry boggled, missing a step and just barely catching himself from falling flat on his face.

You're actually playing a _game_? he demanded, shutting himself in the bathroom and allowing the towel to drop.

I am doing _research_. Hermione sniffed, doing her best to make it abundantly clear that she was in no way enjoying staring at two small screens and playing a barbaric game that was almost a fight to the death between slaves and their masters.

Besides, she added, Mum and Dad are reading the guides and walkthroughs. I suppose we're just lucky my cousin lived nearby and is as big a 'pokefan' as anyone could be.

Lucky's right. Harry replied. How are the rest of the muggles taking it? Are people getting better?

Yes. They're releasing people from the hospitals, but there's still the blockades up, and they won't let people travel. I think they're hoping that somewhere there are still some normal people.

Finishing dressing, Harry frowned at how much larger the clothes were around him before finally shrugging and sliding his tail into the belt loops of his pants in an attempt to keep them up as he headed back down the stairs.

For a moment, he paused at the edge of the stairs, tempted to listen to the conversation, but Hermione's scolding sent him into the kitchen, where all talking promptly ceased.

That's not obvious at _all._ she said scathingly, and Harry snickered.

"So um..." he said, looking around at the semi-expectant faces, only to be saved from having to continue explaining by a rushing sound and an unfamiliar voice calling from the living room.

"Mum? Dad? Hullo the house! Is anyone home?"

"That's Charlie!" Ron shouted, flinging himself off the chair and racing into the living room with Ginny, Fred and George hot on his heels.

Molly and Arthur glanced at each other as Percy followed his siblings at a more dignified pace then followed their children.

Molly paused in the doorway and smiled at the tiny boy with pink cat ears. "Come meet Charlie," she said kindly, "He's my second oldest."

Another rushing sound came from the living room, and for a moment all in the Burrow was silent, then a veritable _wall_ of noise exploded from the living room, with one voice, the same unfamiliar one rising above it all in a laugh.

Molly hurried into the next room, her second mouth working quietly, and Harry waited a moment before his ears flattened at the shriek of absolute surprise.

I'm guessing Charlie's changed too. he told Hermione dryly, and followed Mrs. Weasley into the living room.

There, standing in the middle of the room was a person that absolutely _towered _over everyone else in the room.

"Hey mum." He said, and grinned.

"Oh dear Merlin..."

Harry began to give Hermione the rundown of Charlie's physical changes, giving her a chance to swipe one of the guides from her parents and start looking through the 'Pokedex', whatever that was.

Big, bright orange with a long tail that's on fire at the tip and huge wings that are a weird blue-green on the underside. he said, ignoring her mumbling as she rapidly flipped through the book, looking for a match. And it looks like he's got some horns on his head,

And he's all orange? she asked, Does he look a bit like a dragon?

Harry considered the man in front of him then nodded. Yeah. I could see dragon.

He's a Charizard. The book says that he's a Fire Flying type. High Speed and even higher Special Attack. Don't let anyone put out the flame on his tail or he'll die.

Harry slowly circled the room, eyeing the tall man carefully as Hermione continued to pour information into him.

The man seemed in good spirits, but there was an edge of wildness in his eyes that told Harry he was barely keeping something in check.

Be careful Harry, Hermione said, Andrea says that Charizard can be really wild.

I'll be fine. Harry said, his mental voice firm even as he kept his eyes fixed on the part dragon.

"-so at least now I know I should be working with the dragons!" Charlie said happily, "So... Who's this then?"

The sharp gaze that tried to pin Harry in place was shaken off as something in the back of Harry's head tried to push its way forward, snarling slightly.

"I'm Harry." Harry replied, his voice as calm as he could make it as he moved forward to shake the man's hand, "Harry Potter."

"Charlie Weasley." The red head said, shaking it firmly with a clawed hand, "Fred and George mentioned you know something about what's going on?"

"No." Harry said firmly, "Hermione does."

Charlie frowned slightly, "Who's Hermione?"

Hermione, time for plan 'B' this is getting ridiculous.

He felt her nod somewhere, and sighed. "Hermione's one of our friends. She's in Gryffindor with Ron and me."

"What are we?" Fred interrupted, "Chopped liver?"

"Yeah!" George cried, a grin threatening to overcome his mock hurt expression, "We're in Gryffindor too!"

The pressure in the back of his head grew stronger as his irritation grew, and Harry shoved it back, doing his best to maintain his pleasant expression.

"So is Percy," he pointed out, "But Hermione's in Ron's and my year."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, only to wind up with his mouth hanging open as two people appeared in midair over Harry, hung for a moment, then crashed to the floor.

Luckily, Harry was there to 'catch' them.

Unluckily, they each had a large bag with them, both seemingly stuffed full of books that appeared a split second later and landed on top of the heap of tangled limbs.

The Weasleys stared, and Harry's battle to keep whatever it was in the back of his head contained was lost as a bright pink bubble of energy formed around him.

"Mewwww..."

The bubble pushed the two people who had appeared above him off as he pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his head.

"Sorry Harry..." the voice was soft and wispy, but Ron heard it all the same. Ron was barely able to get his jaw re-hinged enough to squawk "_Hermione!?"_ before falling silent again.

Hermione Granger, soon to be Gryffindor second year and widely acknowledged know-it-all sat up, massaging her aching head and trying to focus all of her energy on one person and one person only.

"Harry," she said quietly, "My cousin Andrea. Andrea, Harry Potter."

Andrea Granger peered around sleepily, nodded once, then curled up and went to sleep with her long bronze tail over her eyes.

"Sorry for landing on you Harry," Hermione said, wishing her voice was back to normal, "But Andrea needed a fix to get here, and you're the only psychic here."

Until that morning Hermione had been convinced that psychics were all frauds and shams; people that faked having supernatural powers just to con other people out of money or to be famous. But now, here she was, genuinely psychic, and it was _hard_.

She had no idea how to keep the images and feelings that constantly flowed through her mind away, short of focusing everything she had on her equally psychic cousin. Andrea was lucky... According the book, as well as Andrea herself, Abras slept over eighteen hours per day. That meant she only had to deal with the overwhelming flood of thoughts and feelings from other people for perhaps six hours a day.

Hermione, for the first time since discovering she was a witch, truly envied her cousin.

The pink bubble next to her expanded, and suddenly Hermione was looking at the slowly recovering Weasley through a rose tinted bubble, and the pressure of their minds was gone.

"Better?" a familiar voice chirped in an unfamiliar way, and Hermione turned slowly to look at her best friend.

"Harry?"

"Yup!"

"How did you do that?"

"Dunno!"

Harry peered around at the pink bubble as if seeing it for the first time, "How pretty."

Hermione groaned softly then looked up sharply as several shapes approached the bubble.

"Harry? Are you okay dear?"

Harry waved happily through the bubble, "Hi Mrs. Weasley! Did you know Hermione's here? She's even brought her cousin!"

"No, my cousin brought me." Hermione explained, and Harry nodded, correcting himself easily.

"I mean Hermione's cousin brought her! Isn't that great?"

"What is this thing?" someone else asked with Ron's voice, and Hermione giggled a little at how strange her friend looked as he poked gingerly at the bubble surrounding the three psychic types.

"Dunno," someone that might have been purple said as his identical shadow also poked at the bubble, and all three of the people outside the bubble leapt back as it burst.

Harry hissed lightly, and his eyes slammed shut as Hermione whimpered and tried to refocus back on her cousin.

Another bubble formed around them, and they relaxed.

"Don't do that!" Harry scolded, his voice still maintaining its strange, playful quality, "We can't handle it!"

"But how did you get here?" Charlie asked, "You're both too young to Apparate, much less Side-Along."

"Andrea is an Abra." Hermione said, once more cursing her newly breathy voice, "Teleport is the only move she _gets_ outside of learning a TM or a Move Tutor. And since I'm almost positive there isn't a Move Tutor, then that's all she gets."

"She's a what?"

"What's a move tutor?"

"A TM?"

"Teleport?"

Hermione waited until everyone had stopped talking then pulled a book out of the bag that had fallen on her, cursing the physical weakness that prevented her from just carrying the bag as she usually would. "This is the Walkthrough guide book for the muggle games Pokemon Black and Pokemon White."

She said, her voice taking on the familiar (to Ron and Harry at least) tone of a lecture as she flipped the book open and began leafing through it to where the Pokedex began.

"In this book it lists every creature that exists in the games, along with their abilities, types, and moves."

She paused at a page that showed a Charizard and turned it, sliding it through the bubble so that the Weasleys could easily see the comparison between Charlie and the picture.

"And you're saying that this is a muggle game?" Charlie asked; his face inscrutable as he looked at the page.

"Yes." Hermione confirmed, pulling the other guides out of the bags and stacking them carefully before sliding them out of the bubble. "That book details the most recent game, so it has the largest list of Pokemon in it. These ones are for the earlier games, so they won't have all of the pokèmon in them."

"So what's with the bubble then?" one of the twins asked, and Hermione sighed.

"The problem with the types is that there are certain things that they can't help. Fire types will have higher body temperatures, ice types will have lower." She hesitated a moment, "Psychic types, like Andrea, Harry and I are just that. Psychic. And we don't know how to block out everything from everyone else, or how to keep our thoughts in our own heads."

"Like when Harry was saying things without saying them earlier?" George asked, and Hermione nodded.

"In fact, the ones that have probably gotten off the easiest in this whole thing are the normal types, like Percy. The only thing they'd have to watch out for would be abilities, especially ones that aren't actively turned off or on."

"Blimey..." Ron breathed, flipping through one of the books with its brightly coloured pictures, "You know all this by heart then? So you could tell me what I am?"

Hermione shook her head, "Andrea's the expert here. I always thought it was a barbaric game, so I never played it."

"Hey!" one of the twins exclaimed, peering over Charlie's shoulder as he flipped through the book he'd first picked up, "That's Percy!"

"No, hang on, go back a couple pages."

Charlie flipped back, and the twin stabbed his finger at the page. "There! Look!"

Ron abandoned his book as the other twin and Percy both hurried over to get a look at the picture on the page.

"Yeah, it does kinda." He said thoughtfully,

"Kinda?" the twin whooped, looking from the page to Percy and back again, "I thought that he was just wearing a cloak; but you're not, are you Perce? That's fur!"

Percy flushed as Ginny advanced on the group, her brown eyes glittering with mischief as she reached out to feel the cloak like covering of fur on her brother's back.

"Wow it _is!_" she cried, and Percy pulled the book out of his older brother's hands flipping through it quickly in an attempt to find what his siblings were.

"Little puppy Percy went looking for a herd!" Fred cried, dancing around as George cackled wildly, "And he went and found he was a Herdier!"

"You know," Ron said slowly, "That actually fits. He's always trying to boss people around. It makes sense he'd be some sort of herd dog."  
-

AN-

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved and followed, and super congratulations to Untameabledragon144, who managed to guess pretty much everyone correctly!

This chapter has now been betaed, and thanks to everyone for putting up with the unbetaed version until now!

Thanks for reading,

Darkingfire.


	8. Read The AN Please

Harry watched through a pink haze as the twins, Ron, and Ginny proceeded to wind Percy up with the ease of long practice until the older boy's patience gave way with an almost audible 'snap' and he snarled at them.

The sound was a deep, almost guttural sound, and the four youngest Weasleys faltered and fell silent, staring at their brother with wide eyes as he glared at them.

"I am so _sick_ of this crap." he said, his voice still holding a tinge of a snarl, "I haven't done _anything_ to you. I don't prank you, I don't make fun of you, I try to keep you out of trouble in school, and I try to help you stay out of trouble around here. So why the blistering, buggering _hell_ am I _always _the target around here?"

Fred and George exchanged horrified glances with each other as Percy drew in another deep breath.

"That's enough son." Arthur Weasley interrupted. "I agree, this has gone a bit far, but you need to calm down. We can discuss this in a bit, after our guests have gone home."

Percy blinked, then flushed as he realized that everyone in the room save the three in the pink bubble was staring at him with a mixture of alarm and wariness written on their faces.

"I'm...I" he stammered, and fell silent, shrinking in on himself. "Sorry." he said quietly, and for a moment his younger siblings just stared at him, then Ginny wrapped him in a hug.

"Me too." she said simply, then let go and went back to perusing one of the books Hermione had slid out of the pink bubble.

Harry, meanwhile, had been so absorbed in mentally reading over Hermione's shoulder that he'd barely paid any attention to the by-play at all, aside from absently setting it aside mentally as 'interesting but useless.'

Still, he was having a harder and harder time focusing on what she was reading, so he gave it up as a bad job and turned his attention back to the rest of the room, absently decreasing the shielding effect of the pink bubble as he floated through it.

Hermione flinched minutely, but didn't look up from her book and Harry flicked mental encouragement towards her as he settled on the floor in the middle of the room.

"So who wants to do the research themselves, and who wants the basic rundown?" he asked, absently poking Andrea's mind and receiving the psychic equivalent of a data dump that sent him reeling.

"Ouch..."

"I'll take the short version!" Ron said eagerly, and Charlie dragged a chair from the kitchen table out into the living room, settling into it gingerly.

Harry snickered at the memory of the first chair he'd sat in shattering under his increased mass.

Wait.

"Okay. So. Pokemon. Ummmm..." Pokemon are animal-like creatures that "are as intelligent as human beings, but for the most part lack the ability to speak hu-" -man language. In the cartoon and the-

He paused, taking in the general state of confusion at the word cartoon. "Oh for the love of Merlin... just... here."

And Harry Potter data dumped everything Andrea had given him into the Weasley's heads.

As one, they passed out, leaving Harry staring.

Oops.

"-could you have been so ir-" -responsible!? They aren't psychic types like we are! Their brain's ar- "en't made to handle that sort of information transfer! This is so bad!" What if you gave them brain damage!?

Hermione's frantic voice alternating between breathy panic and shrill shouting was the first thing Ron heard as he woke, and the high, barely contained panic in it was doing absolutely nothing for the blinding migraine that he was currently dealing with.

"Mione..." he managed to slur, and winced as she practically flew over to his side, a slew of questions pouring from her. "Mione..." he managed a little louder. "Sherrup."

Instantly the flow of questions stopped, and he cracked one eye open to see the newly red-eyed girl looking particularly contrite.

"Sorry." She whispered, and slid an arm under his shoulders to help him into a sitting position. "Are you okay though?"

"I feel like I pissed off an Erumpant." Charlie Weasley said flatly, a hint of a growl in his voice as he forced himself off the floor and back into his chair, which creaked alarmingly.

Hermione was distracted for a moment. "What's an Erum- Ohhhhh! Yes, that comparison is apt."

Charlie blinked at her, blue eyes puzzled. "What?"

Hermione flushed slightly, the stark white of her skin allowing even the faintest hint of embarrassment to be plainly visible.

"I'm a psychic type, remember?" she said, as if that explained everything.

Charlie simply watched her.

Hermione twisted her hands nervously in front of her stomach, then lost any pretense of composure and hid behind the couch, out of sight of the intimidating Fire-type.

Unfortunately for her, that put her in direct line of questioning from the other six newly, awakened Weasleys, and at the predatory looks in the twins' eyes, Hermione squeaked, threw herself at her cousin and the two vanished.

Harry stared at the empty spot on the floor where Andrea had been sleeping.

Hermione?

Ah! Oh, Harry. Right. Um. Look up Ralts. That should explain things. I'm just going to stay here for a while now.

Harry didn't even have to look at the book. The word 'ralts' had pulled up all sorts of associations that Andrea had dumped into his mind, and his green eyes widened as he made the connection. No wonder she'd fled.

As he looked at the surrounding Weasleys, most of whom were carefully pushing themselves into sitting positions or rubbing ruefully at their temples, he made more connections.

The twins were going to need to start eating minerals, and maybe some metals if they wanted to get their full potential, but where on earth was Ginny going to find a Fire stone if she ever wanted to evolve?

"Yeah," he said, absently answering Mr Weasley, "It's a bit like Legilimency from what I can tell, but at the same time it's not."

And really, he mused, Legilimency sounded so truly limiting. Eye contact was preferred, and it could be blocked by Occlumency; and it had to be done on purpose.

Could Occlumency block a natural psychic?

Harry was shaken out of his tangent by Ron's voice.

"-were you talking to?"

"Huh?" Harry lifted off the ground, tired of staying still and trying to answer questions. "Your dad, of course. He was asking if being psychic was like using Legilimency."

Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged glances as the twins approached him.

"Harry mate," Fred said seriously,

"No one said anything." George finished for him, placing one clawed hand on Harry's arm.

Harry's reaction was instant and, to the twins at least, hilarious.

His eyes shot wide open and he shot to the ceiling, clinging there and scolding them in a mixture of English and variations of the word 'mew'.

Molly Weasley was not amused.

"Fred and George Weasley! What on earth did you do to that poor boy?"

"Nothing!" Fred protested, wiping his streaming eyes before dissolving into fresh peals of laughter.

"Honestly Mum, all I did was touch him!" George added, trying to straighten up. "I swear."

It took Harry ten minutes to calm down enough to come down off the ceiling, but he made sure to keep plenty of distance between himself and the twins as he explained the fact that Dark types by nature were the exact opposite of Psychic types, which meant that being in contact with a Dark type nullified the some of his passive Psychic abilities. It wasn't necessarily harmful, but it was uncomfortable. Add to the fact that the twins were dual Dark/Ghost types, and he had an increased wariness of them that had nothing to do with their pranking reputation.

Now everyone was eyeing the twins warily and Harry groaned as he got the gist of where their thoughts were heading.

No, he explained further, Dark types are not by nature evil, any more than it getting dark at night meant that nighttime was evil. Dark types were tricksters, a lot like Ghost types, but with a moveset that would completely oppose any Psychic type, in much the same way that Grass types would be wary of Ron or Charlie, or Water types would be watching Mr Weasley.

He carefully avoided mentioning Mrs Weasley's growing wariness of Ginny, Ron, and Charlie; not wanting to bring any attention to the self recrimination she was putting herself through.

He stopped talking after that, keeping half an ear out for anything interesting even as he sorted out the chaotic mess that was everyone's thoughts in his head.

Their mental voices where almost exactly like their actual voices, which meant that he had almost no way to tell which voice he was supposed to be replying to, and which one he wasn't.

He was a bit surprised that he could still reach Hermione, even halfway across the country as she was, but figured that it must be because she was a Psychic type as well, since he couldn't feel the Dursleys and they were supposedly closer to the Burrow than she was.

Somehow Harry ended up floating up near the ceiling again, watching with no little amusement as Ginny yawned widely, then sneezed, sending a little spurt of fire licking over at Percy, who yelped and whirled around, looking wildly for the culprit.

Ron, unfortunately, hadn't been able to school his face out of the grin he wore in time, and Percy lunged at him with a growl, apparently intent on Biting him. Ginny swiped at him with her tails, which covered his eyes long enough for Ron to roll out of the way.

Straight into Charlie's chair, which broke and sent him crashing to the floor.

Fred and George almost died laughing, then almost literally died as Charlie sent a spray of Embers at them, lighting the couch they'd been sitting on, on fire.

Mrs Weasley's patience snapped audibly and she waded into the fray, her false mouth snapping at anyone in range as she obviously (to Harry at least) resisted pulling out her wand and simply cursing them all into catatonia.

Mr Weasley surprised them all, as a wave of electricity danced over his skin, then jumped from one family member to the next, leaving twitching paralysis in its wake.

Harry was impressed.

Nice move. He said simply, floating down from his spot near the ceiling to somewhere just above Mr Weasley's shoulder, What was it?

The balding redhead shrugged, electricity still crackling over his yellow skin and charring the robes he was wearing as he pulled out his wand and began to repair the damage to the living room.

Harry wisely stayed silent, the tumult in the man's mind making it blatantly obvious that he was nowhere near as calm as he seemed outwardly.

"Harry, please take Ron and Ginny outside."

Harry stared at the man for a moment, then wrapped the two youngest Weasleys in individual pink bubbles and drifted out the back door with them in tow, heading towards the glint of light off water he could see. Maybe dumping them in a pond would release the paralysis?  
-

AN;

Hey guys, first off, thanks for all your reviews from the last chapter. Thanks for reading and enjoying (hopefully) these last eight chapters.

However, I've hit a dilemma.

Recently, I received a review that really opened up my eyes to the fact that what I was writing was something that I hadn't thought through very well. The reviewer gave me great input, and really boosted my ego by saying they were sure I'd thought through the problems they'd pointed out, and had solutions ready for them.

Unfortunately, they were wrong.

I hadn't thought through any of this fic at all, and when I started thinking about it, I couldn't see any way of writing this fic that wouldn't lead to confirmed Mary Sue or God territory, which is something that this particular genre doesn't need any more of.

So I'm offering you guys a choice.

I can either take this fic down and replace it with something similar, but different, _or_ I can leave it up and post a rewrite under a different title. I'll leave this up through Monday either way, but go ahead and leave reviews to let me know what you think.

Thanks very much,

Darkingfire

PS- Also, if you have an idea for a non-legendary Pokemon that you'd like to see Harry as, go ahead and put that in your review too.


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